And then—just as the bullets left their barrels, the wind seemed to shift.
A figure launched into view like a ghost made of muscle and fury.
Eunwoo.
He came from the side at a sprint, a black tactical shield strapped to one arm, a pistol in the other. His face was masked—sleek, dark, and anonymous—but Andrea recognized the walk, the form, the presence.
He didn't hesitate. He moved in front of her, shield raised.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
Three bullets slammed into the shield with metallic thuds. Andrea stumbled back, stunned, as Eunwoo caught her by the waist with his free arm and spun them both behind a nearby forklift.
"Are you out of your damn mind?" he barked through the mask.
Andrea blinked. "What—How did you—?"
"You didn't wait for orders. You didn't wait for backup. You just stormed into a fully armed port like it was a goddamn convenience store!"
"And you didn't answer your phone," she snapped. "I called you three times. I left messages. We had to move. There was no time!"
Eunwoo growled. "You're either the bravest woman I've met—or the stupidest."
She shoved his shoulder. "Maybe both."
He peeked over the forklift—three shooters were repositioning while two moved around the side to flank.
"We've got five incoming. You ready?" he said.
"Born ready."
They moved as a unit.
Andrea launched left, rolling across the pavement and sweeping the legs of the first man around the forklift. She grabbed his gun mid-fall and flipped it up over her shoulder—catching it in reverse grip—and shot twice into the chest of the man behind him. Non-lethal rounds. Cracked ribs, maybe. Nothing fatal.
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Meanwhile, Eunwoo stood his ground, deflecting bullets with his shield. One of the shooters moved in close, trying to stab him with a combat knife. Eunwoo caught the man's wrist mid-thrust, twisted it, and disarmed him with a brutal elbow strike to the jaw.
Andrea ducked low, landed a spinning roundhouse kick to another merc's face, then caught the edge of a crate with her boot and vaulted off it—smashing down on the last shooter's shoulders from above.
She stood on his back as he collapsed.
Eunwoo took two steps forward and pistol-whipped the final merc unconscious before he could reload.
Silence.
Breathing. Fast. Controlled. Adrenaline thick in the air.
They turned to face each other—eyes locked.
"You were supposed to wait," Eunwoo said again, pulling off the mask. His face was sharp, jaw clenched. Sweat beaded at his temple, but his expression was steel.
Andrea stepped closer, defiant.
"You were supposed to pick up your damn phone."
A pause.
Then—more footsteps.
They both turned instantly, weapons raised.
More men. Seven this time. Heavier guns. Tactical armor. They didn't look like smugglers anymore. They looked like a hit squad.
One of them yelled, "THERE! TAKE THEM OUT!"
Bullets rained.
Eunwoo grabbed Andrea's wrist and yanked her behind a steel crate. The metal sparked as bullets ricocheted off.
"We're pinned," she muttered.
Eunwoo smirked. "Only if we stop moving."
She glanced at him. "You got a plan?"
"Do I ever not?"
He handed her an extra pistol and kicked a small steel barrel toward the shooters.
It clanged, rolled, drew their eyes.
Andrea popped up and fired—two shots, fast and precise. She didn't miss. One shooter dropped his weapon, hit in the shoulder. Another took cover.
Eunwoo dashed right, diving behind a forklift, then vaulted over it—landing hard on one of the men. He used the edge of his shield to crush the guy's wrist before striking him unconscious with a rising knee.
Another shooter came at him with a pipe. Eunwoo blocked the swing, turned into the momentum, and hit a spinning sweep kick that dropped the attacker to the ground.
Behind him, Andrea was dancing between gunfire—her motions fluid, all momentum and instinct. She ducked a flying elbow, twisted the attacker's arm behind his back, and used his own knife to pin him to a crate with the hilt.
"Still think I'm stupid?" she shouted.
"Stupid people don't fight like that," Eunwoo grunted, punching another man square in the throat.
Two men remained.
They tried to run.
They didn't make it far.
Eunwoo fired a clean shot—non-lethal, straight to the knee. The last man lunged for Andrea from behind, thinking she wouldn't hear.
She did.
Her elbow smashed into his jaw before he even touched her.
He dropped.
And it was over.
Bodies surrounded them. Moaning. Coughing. Knocked out cold or crawling away.
The yard smelled like gunpowder and sweat.
Andrea leaned against the crate, chest heaving.
Eunwoo stood next to her, breathing just as hard.
"You seriously came alone?" he asked.
Andrea wiped blood from her cheek. "I had to."
"You're impossible."
"And you're late."
"Better than being reckless."
They were about to start bickering again when a voice rang out:
"Guys!"
They turned.
Minjoon.
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Hair tied back, wearing a bulletproof vest and combat boots, she ran across the yard holding a tablet. "We found it! That container—it's tagged. It has the shipment Maya flagged. The one with the encrypted AI chip crate!"
Andrea blinked. "Encrypted chip?"
Minjoon nodded. "And weapons. Top-shelf. This whole operation's been rerouting black-market arms through this port for months."
Andrea and Eunwoo exchanged a glance.
No more time for fighting each other.
Now it was back to the mission.
They moved to the container—K19X-A773, half dented from nearby gunfire. Minjoon entered the access code from her tablet. The locks disengaged with a loud clunk.
The doors creaked open.
Inside were three rows of sleek black crates, foam-sealed, tagged, stacked in perfect military order. Andrea stepped forward, opened one.
Weapons. Clean. Labeled for distribution in multiple countries.
Below that—a smaller, locked vault, fingerprint-protected.
Eunwoo raised an eyebrow.
Andrea pulled a wire out of her belt pouch. "Give me thirty seconds."
He stood by, covering her with his weapon while keeping one eye on the perimeter.
As she worked, Minjoon paced behind them, checking feeds from drone surveillance overhead.
"Reinforcements on the way," she muttered. "We've got five minutes max."
Andrea's wire sparked, then hummed.
The vault clicked open.
Inside, nestled in shock-proof gel, was a matte black capsule—slim, curved, encrypted. A red light blinked faintly.
Andrea lifted it with two fingers.
"This is it," she said.
Eunwoo looked at her, face unreadable. "Worth the bruises?"
She smirked. "Every one."
Then they turned to leave—moving fast, moving together.
Mission complete.
But the war was just beginning.
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The doors of the container groaned open, metal scraping against rusted hinges. Andrea stepped forward, breath tight in her lungs, pulse still hammering from the fight. Floodlights cast jagged shadows across the interior.
Inside were rows of black crates, their matte surfaces gleaming under the light.
She crouched.
Unlatched the first crate.
Assault rifles. Military-grade. No serials. Clean. Cold. Designed for operations that never officially existed.
Andrea's brows furrowed. She opened another.
Smaller vials. Vacuum-sealed, labeled only with a dark-blue serpent wrapped around a blade. A symbol she recognized.
Night Blue.
Her jaw tightened. "Minjoo," she called. "We've got drugs too. Not just weapons."
Minjoo's voice came fast from behind her. "Copy. I'm calling backup now. They'll reroute this to our blacksite."
Andrea didn't respond. Her eyes were locked on one of the opened vials.
The smell.
It was sharp. Metallic. Almost sterile.
She leaned in without thinking. Just a breath. A flicker of instinct.
Then it hit her.
Images. Sounds. A hallway filled with red light. The sound of a child crying. Her own hand on a blood-smeared doorknob. A cold voice echoing from somewhere far away.
Her knees buckled.
The container tilted sideways in her vision.
And just before she collapsed, an arm wrapped around her waist.
Eunwoo.
He caught her effortlessly, pulling her against his chest. One hand cradled the back of her head as her body went limp, her breathing shallow but steady.
"You make mistakes every time," he muttered under his breath.
There was no venom in his voice. Just disappointment. Worry. Fatigue from chasing a storm that refused to stop spinning.
He looked at Minjoo.
"Get these containers to our blacksite. Tag everything. No screwups."
"Yes, sir," Minjoo answered, already keying in coordinates on her tablet.
Without waiting, Eunwoo lifted Andrea into his arms and turned from the container yard. His footsteps were solid, sure, deliberate—cutting through the fading chaos like a man who had done this too many times.
As he moved toward the lot, three of his men emerged from the shadows—guns slung over their shoulders, masked and alert.
They froze at the sight of Andrea unconscious in their boss's arms.
"Boss?"
Eunwoo didn't slow.
"Minjoo's in charge. Sweep the yard. Secure the goods."
The men nodded and turned without question, disappearing back into the warehouse as Eunwoo carried Andrea to his car.
The vehicle sat beneath a busted crane, headlights cutting through the mist.
He opened the passenger side door, leaned in to place her gently into the seat—
And froze.
Her eyes flicked open.
Sharp. Clear. Staring straight into his.
"What are you doing?"
The threat in her voice was casual—but unmistakable.
CLUNK.
Eunwoo flinched hard, smacking the top of his head against the car frame.
"Shit—"
Andrea watched him with no expression as he stumbled back, rubbing the growing bump on the back of his head.
"You could've warned me," he muttered.
"You could've not touched me," she replied coolly, adjusting the seat upright like nothing had happened.
He scowled. "You're impossible."
"Better than being late."
"You were nearly unconscious."
"And you were supposed to answer your comms."
Eunwoo opened his mouth to retort but stopped.
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Andrea was watching him now—really watching. Her gaze landed on his hand, still cradling the back of his skull. A trace of blood smeared along his fingers.
She sighed and leaned forward.
"Let me see."
He blinked. "What?"
"I said let me see."
Before he could argue, she reached up and gently pulled his hand aside, tilting his head. Her fingers moved through his hair carefully, parting it to inspect the wound.
It wasn't deep—but it would bruise. A scrape, maybe. Enough to hurt for a day.
Andrea's hands were rough—bruised, bloody from the fight—but the way they moved was almost soft. Controlled. Intentional.
Eunwoo stood still, caught off guard by the touch. For a moment, he forgot about the container, the drugs, the mission.
He was just… watching her.
"You'll live," she said quietly. "You'll sulk about it, but you'll live."
He exhaled, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Didn't know you cared."
"I don't," she said quickly, but the warmth in her eyes betrayed her.
She leaned back in the seat, arms crossed, avoiding his gaze now. Her breath came slow, a little shaky.
Eunwoo took a step back and circled around the car, sliding into the driver's seat.
Silence settled between them—thick, but not empty.
"I felt something," Andrea said after a moment, her voice quieter now.
He glanced at her. "From the drug?"
She nodded. "It wasn't just a hallucination. It was real. A memory I didn't know I had."
He turned the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled to life.
"You'll get scanned at HQ. Full analysis."
She looked at him then. Really looked.
"You think I'm reckless."
"I know you're reckless."
"But I was right to come."
He didn't argue.
"And I'm still here."
He turned to her, eyes locked on hers.
"Barely."
The silence returned, but it was charged now. Something unspoken hovered between them.
Andrea looked out the window. The container yard was shrinking in the rearview mirror, lights fading behind them.
"We're going to find out where this leads," she said. "Whatever this Night Blue thing is… it's not just a drug. It's something else."
Eunwoo nodded, fingers tight on the steering wheel.
"And next time," she added, "I'm not waiting for your permission."
He didn't look at her, but a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Next time," he said, "you wait. Or I lock you to a chair."
Andrea smirked.
"You could try."